Does She Come With Games?
by Casey Greene
Summary: The thoughts of one nervous Starfleet officer the night before he finds out if he got on the Enterprise.


DOES SHE COME WITH GAMES?

By Casey Greene

He had waited for tomorrow at 1400 hours for years. No, really. As a child of 6, he confided in his father that he wanted to go into space. As a boy of 12, on Career Day at school, he had stood up in front of his entire class and announced that he wanted to be the captain of a starship. As a young man of 18, he signed aboard the U.S.S. Hood as an eager young ensign looking for fun and adventure in the far reaches of space, and worked his way up the chain of command. And now, as a grown but still youthful man of 24, he sat on a barstool in San Francisco, contemplating his future with a bottle of synthehol. He never touched the hard stuff if he could help it, but he was now contemplating that also. All because of a simple, meaningless remark from someone he thought was his friend, but was now pondering that as well. Because every time he had stated his career intentions (well, only one, really), nobody had ever laughed. Never. But this guy had. And he didn't know why. Maybe it was the way he had said it, with too much pride, too much certainty, like there was no doubt, that it was impossible for him to go anywhere but the _Enterprise_. But there was a chance, a very big chance of failure. The _Enterprise_ was a very big ship, but not big enough for every one who wanted to be on her. Maybe he wasn't good enough. Maybe the captain, the formidable Jean-Luc Picard would see the black mark on his record for what it was: a hunch that could have been fatally right, had he not acted on it. Or maybe he would see it as a mark of death and disobedience, a curse of rebellion and irreverence and Not Following Orders, one of the most dangerous things to do in Starfleet, second only to yelling "tribble" when there were Klingons in the room. Just about anything but those two actions and you had a chance of survival. But he had been so confident-had it only been 3 hours ago? It seemed a lifetime. -that he would get on the _Enterprise_, that the captain would see him for who he was and not what the black mark said he was. But no. Now that his confidence was shattered, he wasn't so sure he _would_ get it. He had been talking to Lisa (a drop-dead gorgeous redhead with an incredible sense of humor, and the definition of the word "woman", in every sense) when Annabelle, Jim, and Bill sat down beside them. Bill. His best friend Bill. While every other person he had ever known had called him "Will" or "William", Bill insisted on calling him "Billy". The had all started talking about where they thought they were going to be placed, and when it came to his turn, he said "the _Enterprise_" without any hesitation or doubt. Bill's face had starting twisting and convoluting like he was having as seizure. Then he burst out laughing. 

"What?" he had said. "Don't you think I can make it on the _Enterprise_?" 

"Ho, Billy my boy, I've known you were going to be on whatever ship you wanted since we were12. But is it what you really want? Are you sure you'll like it there? I mean, what if for all he fancy-dancy weapons and transporters and things, what if the whole voyage is full of uninhabited planets and the biggest thing you get to shoot is a medium-sized asteroid? What happens if you get bored?" 

"But that's impossible! She's the best ship in the fleet; she's the freaking flagship for crying out loud! That's gotta mean _something_ to the Romulans or Cardassians or somebody! Because what kind of ship would she be if she…" This thought hadn't crossed his mind before Bill had so unceremoniously lodged it in his head. But now, he started thinking. What if it _was_ a flop? What if he had just tried to get on the biggest, baddest, most boring ship in the fleet? What would his life be like, reporting to the Captain at 0800 hours ship time, only to say that everything was in perfect order, every day, until his brain shut down from lack of activity? 

He had sat there for the last 3 hours, thinking and drinking. Drinking and thinking. He pondered his past and his future, and contemplated Bill's final comments. 

"You see, Billy my boy, you forgot to ask one certain question about the ship." 

"What's that?" 

"You were so excited about serving under the Great Picard, and fighting imaginary battles with ruthless enemies, so busy memorizing where everything was-" 

"I don't even know if I got on. Why would I be memorizing stuff like that?" He tried to laugh off Bill's joking cynicism, but did not succeed. 

"Because if I know you, Billy, and I think I do, you would do that he second you heard there was even the _possibility_ of a single opening on that ship, because that's the way you are. Don't try to deny it, Billy. I know you too well." 

"So what's the question I was supposed to ask?" 

"Does she come with games?" 

He had waited for tomorrow at 1400 hours for years. No, really. But now he wasn't so sure he wanted the time to come. He looked at the chronometer on the wall. 2147. Only 15 hours and 13 minutes. Then it would be time to face the firing squad. To stand up and see if he could dance to the music. He looked at the bottle in front of him, the empty seat beside him, and then back to the chronometer. 15 hours and 12 minutes. It was going to be a very long night for a man called Will Riker. 


End file.
